


Lacrimosa

by MFLuder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Desperation, Drug Use, Episode: s05e04 The End, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Heavy Angst, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 23:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MFLuder/pseuds/MFLuder
Summary: As an angel, he’d felt so much. Not physically. Feeling transcended the physical plane. Instead, he’d felt the souls and minds of all around him. He’d felt God’s creation pulse with life. He had felt the universe spin. Now, there was nothing.





	Lacrimosa

**Author's Note:**

> Companion fic to [Hi, I’m Icarus; I’m Falling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19815292).
> 
> Originally posted November 19, 2009, at [my DW](https://mf-luder-xf.dreamwidth.org/230950.html). Thanks to Skye for the beta!

Even after Jimmy’s soul departed in the altercation with Raphael, his body had still been simply a vessel. There was a weight on Castiel’s shoulders where his wings were and the rest of him felt light, like a fall jacket. Then one morning he awoke to a new-found facticity.

Castiel never learned to hate until he learned to hate himself.

~~~

Castiel had become entrenched with the humans after he’d disobeyed his superiors and his powers were diminished as punishment. In the beginning he’d split his time between searching for God and protecting the Winchester brothers. He abandoned the search eventually; there were more urgent needs. People were dying in staggering numbers. Demons needed to be killed. Then the virus hit. Limited as his powers might have been, they were still enough to flush the sick clean.

Now that weight on his shoulders was gone and instead, his body held solidity it never had before. For the first few moments that morning Castiel couldn’t breathe, never having needed to before. He’d gasped for air, wondering if he was about to die so soon after losing his grace, before he could experience humanity. A very human notion entered his head: it wasn’t _fair_. He had done the right thing, he was sure of it. Yet the Host had abandoned him and now his head was silent; he could no longer hear the heavenly chorus.

Somehow, he’d staggered out of bed and to the small bathroom mirror. He’d torn his shirt off and turned around, looking back over his shoulder. The two perfect scars extending from his shoulder blades to his waist were the only evidence that his wings had ever been there. 

Even with his eyes swimming – tears, he’d realized - he’d managed to make it to the cabin next door where Dean was sprawled across his bed, reading the day’s newspaper when Castiel burst into his bedroom.

“What’s up?” Dean asked.

“It’s gone,” Castiel had responded, sucking in great gulps of air.

“What’s gone?” The paper was tossed away as Dean had crawled off the bed.

“They stripped away my grace, Dean.” His voice rose in volume and tone as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Comprehension had flickered across Dean’s features. “Those bastards.”

Castiel was drawn to him, stumbling, still unaccustomed to the feel of Jimmy’s body as his own. Dean had simply opened his arms to him and took his weight as Castiel collapsed. He’d arranged them so that Dean’s body cradled his on the bed. Dean murmured quietly in his ear, petted his hair, cheek pressed to his, one hand over Castiel’s heart to keep it from pounding out of his chest until they slipped into sleep.

Castiel blinked his eyes open at twilight. He’d felt warm and comfortable, but hollow. What he was – what he had _been_ – was missing.

Dean still held him tight but when Castiel had tilted his head back, Dean had been out cold. That’s when Castiel had noticed Dean’s heady scent and the erection pressed into his lower back.

As an angel, he’d felt so much. Not physically. Feeling transcended the physical plane. Instead, he’d felt the souls and minds of all around him. He’d felt God’s creation pulse with life. He had felt the universe spin. Now, there was nothing. 

That was probably what compelled him to tilt his head further back and let the vessel’s – his – lips brush Dean’s chin. The hairs there prickled his lips. Castiel liked it. He’d done it again, this time brushing his nose under the man’s chin, too. It made him wrinkle his nose in response to the sharp points and a thrill passed through him. His hands had been on Dean’s thighs. Using them as leverage, he’d ground back against Dean’s cock. He’d learned a lot in these years with the Winchesters and lust and temptation were on that list. He hadn’t felt it, but he understood the concept more concretely than when he’d first been returned to Earth after two millennia. But as he’d rubbed against the man behind him, he felt rolls of anticipation and desire pass through his gut. It made him quiver, something deep and visceral. He’d never felt anything so _real_. So _now_.

Unable to resist, he’d rubbed against Dean a second time, body shuddering at the sensation, and Dean had woken with a start.

Dean had tried to push him away, a horrified look on his face. “Cas, what the hell?” He’d pressed a hand down over his erection, clearly embarrassed.

Castiel had flipped over to face Dean and practically growled. “Dean. Fuck me.” 

Dean had stared at him, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and lust.

“I need it, Dean. I need to _feel_. I’m empty.”

Castiel’d tugged Dean’s hand from his crotch and placed it on his chest, holding both of his own over it.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, Cas.”

Later Castiel pondered Dean’s easy acceptance and wondered how long Dean had wanted it; wanted him. 

At the time, though, Castiel had never been so grateful that Dean still listened to him. There had been frantic kissing and Castiel rubbing himself against Dean who’d wrapped his arms around him tight, holding him close; less protective and more possessive.

They got to Dean’s long fingers in his ass, other hand marking the back of his thigh with a hand-shaped bruise. And when that wasn’t enough, Castiel begged Dean for his cock.

Dean had looked sad, but Castiel hadn’t cared. He needed it.

They didn’t have lube handy and Dean pushed into him with only spit while he supported himself on hands and knees. He flinched and arched his back with the thrust that had hardly opened him. The next one had, though.

The pain, _the pain_. It was glorious.

“Jesus, are you okay? I’m hurting you. I’m stopping, Cas, God, I’m sorry…”

Dean’s panicked ramblings had invaded his ears slowly, hard to hear over the rushing sound of blood pumping through his veins. He’d reached back, gripping Dean’s hip. “ _Please_ ,” he’d groaned.

Dean had been loud behind him crying out his name, blasphemies and endearments. Castiel had experienced his first sensations of wrath and pride and bitterness. It was his grand ‘fuck you’ to his brothers for leaving him on this God-forsaken planet. 

Dean had come first, seed filling him, dribbling out and down his leg. After a moment, he’d continued thrusting, jacking Castiel off until he too came with a broken cry.

Dean had been so careful after: cleaning him up, smoothing his hair, kissing his forehead. Castiel had curled into a ball and clung to him. 

“I don’t care,” Dean whispered. “I don’t care if you’re not an angel anymore. You’ll always have me at your back. We’re family, you hear?”

Castiel had only stared at Dean’s protective tattoo, gently tracing the intricate pattern with a trembling finger.

Days later, he’d come upon Dean shouting to the heavens in the woods behind their camp.

“Come on, you sons of bitches! I give in! Come and get me, Michael! I’ll do whatever you fucking want. Just get your asses back down here. Zachariah, I know you’re listening. You don’t get to leave us here, now. You started this whole mess, now fix it!”

Castiel listened, crouched behind a tree for the two hours Dean screamed himself hoarse.

“God damn you heavenly bastards. What you did to Cas; it’s not right. He deserves better than being one of us.”

That day, one week after losing his grace, Castiel smoked his first joint. 

It felt like flying.

It didn’t start right away. Castiel thought he was fine. He and Dean continued their relationship for another year. One day, though, Castiel woke up and realized he couldn’t get out of bed without popping amphetamines and couldn’t go to sleep without washing down dinner with Chuck’s hard liquor. Dean had stopped touching him some time ago and now looked at him with disgust and pity.

That’s when he felt true hatred. It made him sick and he vomited for hours into a dusty bucket. Later that day, he fucked the first girl who looked at him through her eyelashes. She either didn’t notice or simply didn’t comment on the bad taste in his mouth. Or maybe that was just his imagination.

~~~

After the Dean from the past leaves in response to his bitter remarks, he doesn’t take the pills that his body craves. Instead, he lets himself listen to the silence; the silence of the room, the compound, but mostly to the silence of God and his angels. 

He hugs his knees to his chest, placing his head upon them and lets the tears fall. And for the first time in years he prays to the Father who abandoned him. He prays that Dean can change this future.

Later that night, he will act as though the sex didn’t happen, as though he hadn’t been a righteous prick to the Dean from the past; he will grind his own pain into his Dean when he says “I like past you,” and he will learn he’s going to die because one thing Dean could never do was lie to him. And he’ll accept this.

But for now, he recites:

“Lacrimosa dies illa, qua resurget ex favilla judicandus homo reus. Huic ergo parce, Deus…”

**Author's Note:**

>  _Lacrimosa dies illa_ Day of sadness,  
>  _Qua resurget ex favilla_ on which will rise from ashes  
>  _Judicandus homo reus._ guilty man for judgment.  
>  _Huic ergo parce, Deus:_ So have mercy, O Lord, on this man.  
>  _Pie Jesu Domine,_ Compassionate Lord Jesus,  
>  _Dona eis requiem. Amen._ grant them rest. Amen. 
> 
> Follow and chat with me [on tumblr](http://mf-luder-xf.tumblr.com)!


End file.
